1. |
Holding
06:17
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Calling your name when I've felt comfortable.
Knowing that it's just me inside this hole.
These woods won't remember us or what we said.
Each rock rolling toward us regrets what it meant.
I've been holding you too closely ever since.
If I could carry you, I'll wait till we end.
Then maybe you'd consider me sometime when you're bored.
God I hope you're bored.
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2. |
Idle Minds
05:19
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Shaken up,
I find you here.
A deafened world,
an empty bed.
In idle minds,
there is an evil.
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3. |
Swell
04:25
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Curled up in your plastic thoughts again.
Violent nature of the stranger in your skin.
Waiting for some kind of miracle
to pull you out into a hospital.
I don’t think you care about yourself,
so tie your hands with wire until they swell.
Backed up against the same walls again,
and all of the progress you've made sinks into your skin.
You’ve been locked inside this room before,
with monuments you've built while curled up on the floor.
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4. |
Taking Root
05:43
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For the next 20 years or so you'll waste your time on this, putting pieces in.
Don't hold your breath, we've been drawing lines in dirt since we were kids.
It's for the best; try again, but nothing ever comes of it.
Forfeit and run out into the cold.
Eyes shut with no navigation.
Smoke rises through the treetops.
Flashlight beams scatter as they look for you.
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5. |
Dialogue & Memory
03:39
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So take your communion and say your prayers.
Let it wash over flesh and bone, let them drown.
A saccharine dream.
A novocaine slumber.
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6. |
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Back in your arms again, what will it do.
There in your selfish eyes, drowned in your pool.
Get back in your car again, drive somewhere new.
Far away from here where everyone misses you.
Crawl back into your bed,
holding onto every thing that your mother said.
Was this worth it?
49 miles per hour is a church.
(49 miles per hour is a church. So take your communion and say your prayers. Let it wash over flesh and bone. Take it now. Let it die.)
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7. |
An Empty Bliss
05:53
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A second falling-out,
I can’t hide these thoughts.
It’s who I’ve been; it’s who I’ve become.
and I’ve grown callous.
A fallow divinity,
a stained-glass messiah.
Waiting for time to pass.
Waiting for this to end.
(like a fever dream or an empty bliss)
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8. |
Dreaming in Letters
10:45
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Still standing in the hall,
your ghost by the window.
What was once radiant,
dust settles in its place.
This melancholy abounds in these letters.
And I know that woe gets us all in the end.
And I bet we’ll get it wrong in the end.
This melancholy abounds in these letters.
I watched you burn so many bridges.
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Glowing Window Recordings Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania
Micro Label run by Planning For Burial.
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